


Learning Curve

by headupheelsdown



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: AU, Bangel - Freeform, BtVS movie elements, Burning down the gym, F/M, I Will Remember You, IWRY, When they first met
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 02:13:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16484126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headupheelsdown/pseuds/headupheelsdown
Summary: After the new slayer is called, a lost Angel heads to California. He didn’t really know what he intended to do, but he definitely did not mean to get this close.Redo of how B&A meet with some movie/pre-series elements.





	Learning Curve

**** In a dark alley, Angel presses a rodent to his lips, the sour taste of its blood filling his mouth. Footsteps echo on the concrete and he drops the rat, turning to the sound as he wipes his lips with the sleeve of his coat.

“Well, I came to tell you that your life needed to change, but I can see that part’s obvious.” The man continues his approach. When he gets within a few feet of Angel, he takes off his hat and rolls it between his hands. “How do you do?”

“What do you want?” Angel asks, getting straight to the point. The man looks human, but walks with an air of confidence that speaks of a demon within. 

“Same thing as you,” he answers with a smile, “Purpose.”

That word doesn’t hold much meaning for him anymore, and it had very little to begin with. “How about you purposefully leave?” Angel’s menacing suggestion does not cause the man’s smile to falter. 

“You’re at a crossroads, Angel.” He replaces his felt hat back onto his head and ignores Angel’s irritation. “You can call me Whistler. I think you’re going to want to hear what I have to say.”

\-----

She hasn’t worn the same outfit twice. It’s been almost three weeks. Today she looks radiant in a jean miniskirt, brown tall boots, and pink sweater. The late October weather gives the air a chill, and she crosses her arms over her chest. Angel finds her desire to wear the insensible skirt endearing. She walks down the steps with a friend on each side, her shiny blonde hair bouncing to the rhythm of her footsteps. 

From his place in his car, he can hear their conversation. “C’mon, Buffy. We’re running out of time. Homecoming is next week!” The brunette on her right is talking, saying the words with an enthusiasm that conveys some kind of major event.

“You know I can’t,” Buffy answers, “My mom saw the credit card statements from our last mall haul. I’m grounded into next century.” She averts her eyes as she talks, lying uncomfortably. She will have to get better at that. Lies will become a common theme in her life soon.

“It’s going to be so hard to pick a dress without you,” the other girl says. She talks through a mouthful of bubblegum and it gives her a lisp. “How are you going to get yours?”

“I’m not even sure my mom will let me out of prison by then,” Buffy says. Her friends give matching looks of sympathy. 

“Fingers crossed that she lets you go,” the brunette says, holding up both hands to display her statement. Buffy promises to get all the details the next day.  The girls part ways. 

Angel watches as Buffy waits at the crosswalk, but when the light changes, he can’t see where she is going. The black paint on the car windows and a few blankets keep him from frying, but only a few places afford him a view outside without sacrificing his skin. No need to worry, though. He knows where she will be tonight.

\-----

Her movements are sloppy and ill-timed. The vampire she is fighting still has dirt clinging to his body and a clump of grass in his hair. There is a cigarette tucked behind his left ear. It shouldn’t be this hard for a slayer to dust a new vamp. Buffy finally lands a good kick to his ribs, sending the fledgling into the wall of a mausoleum. She reaches in her back pocket but comes up empty handed. Angel can see her stake on the ground a few feet away from her. He wants to point her in the right direction as he watches her search frantically. From her place, the small wooden object blocked from view by a tombstone. 

The vampire takes advantage of her distraction and lands a few solid punches. The last one sends her sprawling, but she lands in the grass right beside the tombstone and stake. Even from this distance, Angel can see the relief on her face and watches her delicate features shift into satisfaction when her hand curls around the wood. Buffy lifts it, pointy end up, just as the vampire swoops down to continue his assault. 

Her aim has improved and the stake hits home. The cloud of dust is right above her, falling into her hair and eyes, making her cough. “No smoking,” she says to no one, “Smell like an ashtray in life, become one in death.”

The corner of Angel’s mouth tugs up without conscious volition. She gets up, brushing off her clothes and running her fingers through her hair. Buffy wipes her face on her sleeve and looks around. After a few turns, she gives up. She looks behind her every couple steps as she walks towards the cemetery exit and Angel’s position. She passes by him, far enough away that she can’t see him, but close enough that he can smell her, fresh and green.

\-----

Thump. Crack. Thud. Angel’s punches land solidly, sending the blonde vampire backwards over a bench. Stake in hand, he delivers the final stab. The undead girl turns to dust with a muted poof. She is the first one he has staked tonight but the fourth this week.

After watching Buffy struggle to kill a vampire a few nights ago, he’s been trying to thin the herd. Immediately after the sun is down, Angel is on the prowl, running through her normal patrol areas. By the time she is able to sneak out of her house, he’s already addressed any major threats. As a new slayer, she needs practice, and she won’t be able to get that if a vampire sucks her dry before she gets the hang of it.

Angel presses on, following the same patrol route she does. Her mom should be in bed now. Buffy is probably making sure the door closes quietly on her way out. He pictures her hurrying down the sidewalk with a small backpack full of holy water, crosses, and stakes. After last time, she has gotten paranoid about making sure she has a few spares. Maybe she doesn’t anymore. Maybe she has gotten more confident. He hopes so. Since he has been clearing Buffy’s path he has not seen her, taking care to stay ahead of her and out of sight.

His preoccupied mind does not notice the group of vampires until they are well within earshot. “The game is going to be slammin’. Those morons are going to be all ‘But, I thought you were dead!’” The male vampire who spoke looks to have been about 16 when he was turned. Judging by his unbridled excitement, he hasn’t been a vampire very long. He still foolishly thinks immortality is fun.

One of the two female vampires beside him laughs. “As if,” she says, flicking her bright red hair behind her shoulder, “They will be too busy screaming to say much at all.”

The other two concede to her point. “Either way, it’s gonna be one hell of a game.”

Angel changes his position, moving closer to stand behind a tree. The group looks young, and if he can surprise them, he should be able to take all three without too much difficulty. Maybe leave one for Buffy to stake when she comes through.

Unfortunately, the group is smarter than he gave them credit for. “Did you see that?” one of the girls asks, pointing almost in the direction of Angel.

“No,” the other girl answers, “But we should go. I don’t want to die again before I get to have some fun.”

The three turn around, walking towards the park exit. They’re almost gone when Angel hears the male speak again. “Maybe the slayer was watching us. I heard she is finally figuring out which end of the stake is pointy.” Their laughter echoes off of the trees. 

\-----

Buffy compares the three shades of red before selecting one to hand to her friend. She watches as Ashley uses it to paint her lips. “What do you think?” Ashley asks. It’s hard to tell when she is still smashing her lips together, spreading the rich color.

When she finally stops, Buffy asks her to hold up her dress again. The rosy hue of the lipstick works well with the navy blue dress and Ashley’s chocolate skin. It makes a classy statement rather than looking like a Fourth of July barbeque. “It’s perfect.”

Ashley claps her hands together repeatedly. Her joy is interrupted by two girls stepping into the room wearing knee length dresses, hot pink and eggplant. All four of them begin gushing over the outfits, compliments flying in all directions except to Buffy. After another round of proper lipstick and footwear pairing debates, three of them are satisfied. Buffy is twiddling her thumbs.

She can’t go to Homecoming. There is no way she would have the time or the energy for school, slaying, and a dance. It’s hard enough just balancing school and slaying. Today she tried to have a social life again. Buffy missed her friends. So, she came by to see all of their dresses and live vicariously through their shopping experiences. When she showed up, they were surprised. Buffy forgot that she had lied earlier in the week, telling the girls that her mom had grounded her. She had to hastily make up a story about her mom working late that day and not being home to lock her inside. Maintaining this new lie, she excused herself, giving hugs and citing her mother’s schedule as her reason to go.

On her walk home, Buffy goes through her usual patrol route backwards since she is starting on the other side of town. She passes through the gates of the cemetery, planning to hit the park next and the high school last on her way home. Buffy twirls her stake like a baton, wiggling her fingers to spin the wood in circles before tossing it upwards. She catches it cleanly. On the next toss, she has to snatch it out of the air. Sounds of fighting invade her ears, coming from close by. 

She follows the noise, ducking behind a large cement cross. Peeking around the corner, she can see two men fighting. The shorter one grabs the other by the lapels of his black jacket, pulling him forward and into a headbutt. They both stumble backwards. The one who did the headbutting rubs his forehead. When he brings his hand away, Buffy can see the bumpy ridge of his brows labeling him as a vampire. The other regains his composure first and charges him, sending him into a headstone with a thud. He brings up an arm and Buffy can see that he is holding a stake, whittled to a point like the one she has in her own hand. It is knocked away by the other vampire who manages to swat it and land a punch to the other’s jawline. 

Buffy emerges from her vantage point, deciding that at least one of them is her responsibility. As she approaches, the one in the black jacket manages to get the upper hand, pinning the vampire below him. “Here,” she calls out, gaining his attention. When he looks her direction, his face is full of surprise, but he notices the stake she throws his way. He catches it and stabs it into the chest of the vampire below him swiftly. 

Before the body becomes dust, he pulls back the stake, tossing it back to Buffy. “Thank you.” His voice is low and quiet but carries to her ears effortlessly. 

“Always ready for an assist,” she says. She goes it put the stake into her jacket but decides against it, keeping it in her grasp. “I’m Buffy, the vampire slayer.”

“I know,” he says. He holds out a hand quickly as if that would stop the words he just spoke. “I mean, I’ve heard of you.”

“Only good things, I’m sure.” She looks at him expectantly, crossing her arms over her chest. The only other person she has met that knew about vampires, nonetheless how to kill them, was Merrick.

He is watching her movements closely, sizing her up, so he knows it’s his turn. “Angel, rogue demon hunter.” He adds the epithet, delayed and unsure, to match hers.

“Rogue demons? As opposed to honest demons?” Buffy raises an eyebrow. He definitely doesn’t have the look of some kind of supernatural bounty hunter. His face is full of angles with high cheekbones, but it’s too attractive to be harsh. The black jacket and pants contrast with a white t-shirt that looks timeless.

“Well, yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “I guess.”

He’s not as smooth as he looks, folks. “We’re on the same team then.” Buffy smiles and he returns it crookedly. It would be nice to have an ally. Someone she didn’t have to lie to. 

For now, she just has to finish her patrol. She walks a few paces before realizing that he hasn’t moved. Turning back, she asks him, “Are you coming or what?”

\----

Patrols are much more interesting with company. The evenings pass quickly, most of the time filled with conversation. Buffy does most of the talking. Luckily (or unluckily?) the constant chatter doesn’t seem to be scaring vampires away. They’ve dusted three in as many nights.

“Undead assassin. Vampire slasher. Killer of creatures,” Buffy muses, “Vampire slayer definitely sounds the best.” She turns to look at Angel and finds him amused. She hasn't really seen a wide range of emotions from him, but his mouth is turned up in one corner and his eyes are luminous. 

“I would think having a name like,” he starts, “Buffy!” Her name is a warning on his lips and Angel points over her left shoulder. 

Buffy turns quickly, expecting a vampire. Instead, she sees a purple-skinned demon with short, pointed horns at each temple. It runs towards her with long, awkward legs. Buffy spreads her feet shoulders width apart and brings her fists up. Before the demon can get to her, there are strong hands on her biceps, moving her out of the way. 

“Move. Don’t let it get close to you.” Angel’s voice is close to her ear and his hands are still on her arms. It makes her shiver. The demon runs straight through where she was standing, lumbering to a stop a few feet afterwards. It turns its head around, finding her in her new position. “They’re not very coordinated,” he adds.

He removes his hands as the demon charges forward again. They both run to the right, and it fools the demon for a second time. It roars in frustration, a sound like metal screws in a blender. This time, when the demon locates her, Buffy stands still. She inclines her head towards Angel, signaling him to move out of the demon’s path.

Just as it reaches her, the demon opens its mouth and reaches out. Buffy ducks quickly and crawls between its legs. Purple arms grasp at empty air and bright green vomit lands on the grass right where she was standing. It sears the grass where it lands, bubbling. 

Buffy taps its shoulder. It turns its head side to side in confusion before she stabs her stake through the demon’s back. It crumples forward, falling into its own regurgitation. The green liquid reacts with its purple skin, melting into a puddle. 

Buffy steps over what’s left of the corpse on her way to Angel. “Thanks for the warning. How did you know about the projectile gross?”

“It was a frovalox demon,” he says, “They’re pretty common. Too common.” He makes a face of disgust. The vomit is still bubbling like boiling water.

“Oh.” Buffy looks down, trying to commit the image of the demon and information to memory. “I probably should have known about that then, huh?” Angel shoves his hands into the pockets of his black jacket and looks away. It’s enough of an answer. 

Buffy walks away and can hear Angel’s footsteps as he follows her. They walk in an uncomfortable silence, canvasing the rest of the cemetery. It’s empty. 

As they are about to part ways at the end of patrol, Buffy breaks the stalemate. “My watcher died.” Angel turns to her, watching her talk with soulful eyes. “He was my teacher. Told me who I was. A slayer.”

“I’m sorry,” Angel says honestly. 

He doesn’t pry, but she continues. “So I’m doing this on my own. I’m not very good at it yet.” Buffy offers a half smile.

Angel reaches out to touch her hand. His grasp cold, but comforting. She folds her hand into his. “You are good at this; the things you can’t be taught. You’ll learn the rest.” He squeezes her hand once.

\-----

Angel is patrolling alone. Buffy went to Homecoming. During their rounds the last two nights, she talked about it nonstop. Her friends were all going together without her. Buffy had lied, saying her mom grounded her, unable to tell her friends about her true duties that night and every night. 

None of this kept her from talking about it. Angel learned who was dating who, how to choose the correct heel height, and what a ‘spaghetti strap’ was. It was obvious that she wanted to go, so Angel offered to patrol that night, enabling her to go guilt-free. Buffy had tried to refuse, but it wasn’t hard to convince her. When they parted way at the end of the night, she even gave him a kiss on the cheek.

This evening patrol proves eventful when he spots a girl with bright red hair standing at the head of a fresh grave. She is tapping her foot impatiently. “Does it always take this long?”

A young vampire in a blue jean jacket paces beside her. “He’s always been slow. Just a little longer,” he says. Angel recognizes the two from a few nights prior. Last time, there was another girl with them.

“Searcy is already at the game. He’s gonna make us late!” She complains loudly. 

“Homecoming lasts for hours. As long as we get there before the dance is over,” he stops talking to point at the dirt. The exposed earth is shifting minimally, the vampire below beginning to rise. 

Angel takes his opportunity to fight two vampires before it becomes three. The vampires are young and don’t take much effort. A few solid kicks has the male lying flat and vulnerable to Angel’s stake. The redhead tries to stop him, but Angel throws her off and sinks the wood into her friend. Before she can get up, she’s dust as well. 

When one hand protrudes from the dirt, Angel pulls the fledgling up from the ground like rooting a plant. Still disoriented, the new vampire is a layer of dust on top of his grave before he knew what hit him. 

After checking his surroundings for any others, Angel hurries towards the high school, realizing the plans of the vampires he just dusted.

\-----

As Angel walks through the chain link gates of the football stadium, everyone else is walking out. From the tempo of the song the band is playing, the Hemery football team won the game. Most of the remaining patrons are boys dressed in blue and white. From Buffy’s conversation, Angel knows that most of the girls have went to change into their homecoming dresses. 

To intercept her, he waits at the gym, watching as couples enter arm in arm. From what he can tell, no vampires have snuck their way in, but there were already people inside when he arrived.

He hears Buffy before he sees her, her carefree laughter making it harder to interrupt her night. She sees him standing across from the entrance and waves her friends along. They walk in as her heels click towards him. 

“Angel,” she says. Her hair is down around her shoulders, blonde and curling lazily. The green of her dress brings out the emerald tones in her eyes.

“Buffy,” he answers, “You look beautiful.” He can’t ruin her night without telling her how wonderful she looks.

She blushes hotly and pushes her hair behind her ear. “Thank you, but I doubt that’s why you’re here.” Buffy smiles, but her eyes are worried.

Angel tells her his suspicions. Although he learned of vampires planning an attack during the homecoming dance, he has no information on how many there could be.

“Considering how many students disappear from this school, there could be an army. I’m sure they all have complaints to settle,” Buffy says. She opens her clutch purse and the contents prove that she is carrying it out of necessity rather than style. She passes him a stake.

Angel looks away as she raises the hem of her dress to slide a stake into a garter along her thigh. “You take the inside, I’ll take the outside?” he asks.

Buffy agrees. She pulls a few more items from her purse. “Here, take this, too.” Angel reaches out as she passes him something.

His skin burns instantly, curls of smoke rising in the air between them. Angel jerks his hands back, dropping the wooden cross onto the pavement. Even if he couldn’t feel his features transition to his vampire visage, he would know by the look on Buffy’s face. Hurt and confusion color her eyes as her mouth drops open in a scream. He controls his appearance, but it’s too late. She flees, running into the gym. 

\-----

The gym is filled with students in bright colors. Her thoughts are racing, but the pounding of her heart and the beat of the music help to drown them out. There’s a crisis. A lives-in-danger, vampire-juice-box kind of crisis that needs her attention. She finds her friends quickly thanks to the hot pink of Bonnie’s dress. Hastily, she makes up yet another lie, telling them that Ashley’s mom paid for a limo ride home and it’s waiting outside. They all rush to the parking lot to check her story. It won’t take them long to catch her fib. 

Buffy scans the faces in the room, looking for vampires. Nothing triggers her, but after what just happened, she doesn’t trust her senses either. Angel was different; he didn't act like a vampire. She refocuses, directing her attention to odd behaviors, dark corners, or charged interactions on the dance floor.

Finally, she finds what she is looking for. Several pale partygoers are in the corner closest to the band and farthest from her. Their clothes are at least two seasons ago and they pay more attention to the rest of the people in the room than their own group. 

Buffy makes her way their direction, elbowing through the throngs of students. Her small stature doesn’t help. She is about to resort to purposely landing her heel on the toes of their shoes when she overhears the conversation of the group she is passing through. 

“Why are we having the dance in the gym? There’s not even room to groove,” a girl in a black dress complains to her boyfriend.

“This has got to break the fire codes,” he agrees, “Maybe next year freshman won’t be able to come.”

She continues to push her way through the dancers, but she can’t see over their heads to make sure the vampires haven’t changed location. The corner of a table bites into her hip as she is pressed against it by the crowd, once again expelled to the edge of the room. A bowl of pretzels, cookies, and a large punch bowl rest on the table she bumped into. Small candles and blue confetti decorate the white tablecloth.

Using the only idea she has, Buffy picks up one of the small candles and holds the flame against the corner of the tablecloth. The white cloth turns black before finally igniting. She waits a few seconds, letting the smoke accumulate before reacting. 

“Fire!” She has to yell and repeat herself a few times to be heard over the music as the smoke spreads. The information makes its way through the crowd quicker than she ever could, and students are hurrying for the exits. The fire alarm begins to sound, causing the students to cover their ears as they make their way out.

The only group that doesn’t look concerned for their safety is the one she spotted earlier. Five vampires are still by the band, the speakers only emitting static. The vampires are confused and arguing, sending accusations and ideas between them like swords. Buffy interrupts with her fists as the overhead sprinklers come on. 

\-----

Angel paces outside the gym. He watched as all the teens exited, but Buffy was not among them. She was still inside, probably fighting vampires. He walked towards the gym entrance again before turning on his heel. After finding out his true identity, she wouldn't want his help anyway. He changed his mind again, deciding to go in and check on her when he could see the orange glow of flames. The siren of a firetruck wails loudly, approaching their direction.

Buffy comes running out when he is within feet of the entrance. She reaches out for his hand as she passes, catching him by surprise. They run past the onlookers, barely scraping by the principal. They stop a safe distance away. 

“A fire?” Angel asks as they watch men in fire retardant gear unload from the red truck. 

“I had to get everyone out,” Buffy answers with a shrug. 

The fireman turn on the hose, dousing the gym in water. “Couldn’t you have just pulled the alarm?” Angel raises an eyebrow.

“Oh,” she says, “That probably would have done the trick.” Her face falls.

“It could be worse than a burned gym.” Angel makes an attempt at reassuring. The alternative stays unspoken but understood between them.

“You’re the one who figured it out,” she says. She locks her green eyes onto his, searching his face.  “Why are you helping me? You’re one of them.”

“We’re on the same team.” He looks into her eyes and reaches a hand to her cheek. Buffy doesn’t flinch at his touch. Angel skates his thumb along her cheekbone and she leans into his hand. “I promise.”  
  
  
  
  



End file.
